Two Lives, Two Loves
by Fluffy Darkness
Summary: Glitch may have feelings for DG, but Ambrose has his eye on a different woman.
1. Chasing Introductions

**Disclaimer: I don't own Tinman, even though I really really wish that Glitch was mine**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, and constructive criticism is appeciated even more.**

A young girl emerged from a bedroom, looking around to make sure no one saw her exit. Relieved to find that she was alone, she slunk down a corridor, her light footsteps creating no noise on the tile floor. Constantly glancing around the hallway, she picked up speed and almost broke into a run. But the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps caused her to stop, fear rooting her to the floor.

The footsteps became louder and louder until she couldn't stand it anymore. She snapped out of her fear-induced position and bolted behind a large potted plant. She disappeared from view just in time, for immediately afterward, a young man turned a corner and strode down the hallway, his long coat gently waving behind him. She watched as the man continued down the corridor and then stopped in front of a door. Coincidentally, it was the same door that the girl had only just emerged from.

He entered the bedroom only to find that the child was no longer sleeping on the bed. In fact, it appeared as though she was no longer even in the room. "Just great," he muttered. He put a hand to his forehead, taking in a deep breath. This was no time to panic. _Strange children run loose around the palace everyday, right? Why wouldn't they? I mean, it's completely natural._

Leaving the empty room, he saw a small figure round a corner. He hurried after it, but did not run, for there really was no reason to. Well, at least there _was_ no reason. But that quickly changed. When he rounded the corner and saw a thirteen-annual-old girl jogging down the hallway, he acted on impulse and shouted, "Stop!" The child looked back at him, fear evident in her hazel eyes, and then broke into a sprint.

"It just can't be easy." He ran after the child, whose thin legs carried her down the corridor at a surprising speed. When she reached a rather steep, spiraling staircase, she almost stopped. The man's nearing footfalls were what spurred her down the descent. She descended rapidly, flying down two steps at a time. She just wanted to get away from the man, and these stairs were making her dizzy.

Her pursuer was not enjoying this chase anymore than she was. He had previously told the two children of the home to never run up or down the staircases; if either of them saw him pursuing this child in such a manner, they'd berate him to no end for his hypocrisy.

Once she reached the landing, she bolted down an adjoining corridor, not noticing that the main entrance was at the end of the hallway that she had just left. The young man did not follow, for he knew that that corridor curved and eventually joined with the entrance hall again. He, therefore, simply strode over to where the hallways connected, but took care to stay behind a wall, and waited. Sure enough, he soon heard quick footfalls clicking against the floor.

When the child came into view, he immediately reached out and grabbed her arm, his hand completely circling the thin limb. The girl shrieked in terror and dropped to her knees. She was tired; she knew that struggling would do no good. Instead she cried.

"Please, please don't hit me! I'm sorry-I…I didn't mean to do anything wrong!" She closed her eyes shut tight and braced herself for a cuff.

He regarded the blubbering child with interest. When she had been brought there by her mother, she'd been wrapped in a blanket, so he had never gotten a good look at her. And the woman had taken her child up to a bedroom by herself so as to be alone when she said goodbye. Her mother stated that the child had passed out from excitement, for the girl was to live in this place of sovereigns in return for her services of housekeeping. In other words, she was to be a maid serving a family that he himself served. This was agreed upon when the mother convinced the head of the household that this child (well, young woman) was a hard worker who was easy to manage and would require absolutely no pay.

Now was the first time that he could really see what she looked like, and he was not pleased with the picture before him. She wore a brown dress, torn in several places, covered in stains of every sort. Her light brown hair hung in dirty, oily strands. Several bruises contrasted against the pale complexion of her face and arms. A long scar ran across her forehead and there appeared to be caked blood around her nostrils. _An abused child._ No wonder she thought that he would hurt her.

When no blow fell across her face, the child looked up at the man, her hazel eyes still dripping liquid crystals. "W-where's my m-mother?"

The question puzzled him. Why was she asking where her mother was? Unless…perhaps this was not the same girl whose mother had dropped her off several hours ago.

"Is your name Lynette?"

"Y-yes," she said, sniffling, "that's my name."

It _was _the same girl. But then why would she ask for her mother? Surely she knew that her mother had brought her to this domicile. No, of course she didn't know. He now highly doubted that the girl had simply passed out from excitement. He bent down until he was eye level with her and sniffed. The child was still breathing deeply due to her crying, and a faint odor lingered on her breath: venastryl. Venastryl powder was a powerful substance that would rend the consumer unconscious within seconds, usually presenting some uncomfortable side-effects upon waking.

He immediately understood everything. Lynette's mother must have given her some powder (whether or not she was aware of this, he could not be sure) and presented her unconscious figure to the queen, using the blanket to hide the child's marks of abuse, with the excuse that she had merely passed out. The girl most likely didn't even know where she was at the moment. No doubt she would have protested against being sent there if she had been able to, and that was why her mother drugged her unconscious. It was sad, really.

As she looked at him, she could see something in his dark brown eyes as he looked her up and down. She knew that look all too well. Whenever people saw her filthy, splotchy face and her ragged clothes caked with dirt, they always looked at her with that same expression. She hated it. She really didn't know what to call it, but she was still quite tired of it. She swayed slightly; her head was pounding for some reason. Not to mention, she had thrown up in that bedroom. Whatever she had eaten for breakfast that morning, for she couldn't remember what it was, must not have agreed with her too well.

He stared at the child with pity. She was trembling now, and he realized that his unwavering stare must have been making her nervous. He enclosed his hand around her wasted wrist, but she immediately pulled away. "No," she shook her head, "where am I?" Her eyes were flooded with fear once more. Where did this man wish to take her?

He sighed. No, this was most definitely _not_ going to be easy. "You are in the palace of their majesties, the king and queen of the O.Z." The girl gasped at his words, and her eyes grew wide with shock.

"Oh, Sir, you-you have to believe me-I…I don't know how I got here. Oh, please, please don't be mad. I didn't mean to do anything!" Her words dripped with desperation, her eyes pleading with him. Then a horrified expression crossed her face. "If Mother finds out that I left, she'll kill me! She told me so a while ago." She grasped his arm. "Oh, I beg you, Sir, please don't send me home. I don't want her to hit me again!" She began to sob again, pressing her face against his coat sleeve.

He was unsure of what to do. If it had been DG crying against him, he would've immediately scooped her up into his arms and comforted her until she was laughing in his embrace. But this was not the princess, and she was also ten years older than DG. He was only able to awkwardly put his arm around the girl as she continued to cry.

'Don't worry. You won't be sent home." Not only did he oppose the thought of returning her to an abusive home. He doubted that her mother would be easy to find, knowing well that she would most likely try to disappear after disposing of the girl.

Her tears immediately ceased to fall, and she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes for signs of deceit. "Why not?"

"Because," he paused, contemplating the idea of lying to her, but knew that she had the right to learn the truth, "your mother brought you here to live…and work. This is your new home."

The gleam that entered her eyes, was it more tears? He hoped not. To his dismay, small crystals fell from her eyes in the affirmative, but these ones were different. His mind was plunged in confusion when he realized that they were laced with…happiness? The girl began to laugh, a smile gracing her features. This change in her demeanor greatly surprised him, for he had not been expecting such a reaction in the least. Her laughter continued; it was soft, very childish. It caused a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. He thought this picture to be very peculiar, like a flicker of light trying to break free from a cloak of darkness.

He retrieved a handkerchief from a pocket on the inside of his coat and handed it to her. She stopped laughing and looked at him, cocking her head to side, unsure of what it was for. "Please, dry your eyes." The child began to dab at her tearstained face. "And wipe your nose as well." She simply nodded her head and removed the snot and dried blood from her nose. When she finished, she returned it to him, and for a moment he wondered what he should do with the dirty cloth. Being a man of cleanliness, he resolved to simply hold it by a corner. He looked at her face; well, it was an improvement. "Much better," he said, smiling.

"What's your name?"

"Ambrose," he stated.

"Ambrose…" She tested the name; it rolled nicely off her tongue. "Is this really my new home?"

He nodded. "Yes, unless you'd rather be turned loose to roam the O.Z. by yourself." Oh, what a horrible thought that was. He didn't even want to imagine one so young at heart wandering around the O.Z. without a clue in the world as to where she was going. He felt an odd sort of relief as she shook her head in disapproval of the idea.

"No, I think I will like it here, but only if you live here too." She smiled, cocking her head to one side in thought. She found that she very much liked this man. He looked nice in the least, with dark brown eyes and short, tightly curled black hair. His face was rather pale, though, but hers was too. He had a clean, proper air about him, he even smelled clean. That was a funny thought. She'd never met anyone before who smelled clean.

He stood and said, "Come along, the queen must be notified that you are awake." He let out a subdued chuckle. "That was why I had gone to find you in the first place, to see if you were awake yet. I didn't anticipate a chase around the palace." He gestured for her to follow him and began to walk down the corridor. Lynette quickly stood and trailed close behind him.

"Ambrose?"

"Yes?" He looked back at her.

"What does "anticipate" mean?" He only laughed.

She was a rather charming girl.


	2. Years of Change

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Tinman.**

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ambrose asked, knocking on the bedroom door, the one that now led into the child's small room.

Lynette opened the door and slowly stepped out, a seamstress standing behind her. Ambrose looked down at her and was pleased with what he saw. After a couple of hours of coaxing, feeding, washing, and sewing, a new child stood before him. She was clean, though her marks of abuse were even now more apparent than before, and her hair was braided, showing off a smiling face. She wore the attire of a maid: a burgundy dress with gold embroidery, white stockings, and small black shoes.

"My, don't you look pretty." Lynette's pale cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes toward the ground. He thought her reaction to be amusing, and had to keep back a small chuckle. "Now, it's time for you to learn your place here."

She looked up at him. "My place?"

"You understand that you shall be working here, correct?" She nodded. "Well, I have been instructed to teach you what your job is and how you shall go about doing it." _Of course, it's not as if someone who actually __**does**__ this could teach her. That just wouldn't make any sense at all._ The odd thing was that except for him and the queen, the girl shied away from everyone who approached her and would not speak to them at all.

When she had lived with her mother, she was allowed to speak to no one when in public. Breaking this rule would result in a beating, and so she simply evaded conversation with anyone she saw, soon becoming afraid of all who looked her way. But she liked Ambrose and the queen was a very nice woman, so she felt okay talking to then. Others though, she didn't trust them. They didn't seem so nice; they might tell her mother if she spoke to them. She still didn't completely believe that her mother was gone for good.

She nodded again. "Well then, follow me." Again, that small incline of her head occurred. She really didn't talk that much.

A somewhat lengthy walk led them to a rather large closet. Ambrose opened the door and said, "Anything that you will need can be found in here. Walking into the closet, Lynette looked at the many shelves with wonder. She'd never seen any of these things before. No, that was a lie. Something in the corner looked familiar, what was that called? Oh yes, a broom.

Every object was showed to her, and each of their functions explained. Her mind set to memorize several cleaners, polishes, cloths, mops, and scrubbers, and their jobs. And she was doing very well until one word confused her.

"This is used to clean upholstery," he said, showing her a bottle of clear liquid.

She cocked her head to the side. "Upholstery?"

"Yes, upholstery is the materials used to cushion and cover furniture."

"So why isn't it just called furniture cleaner?"

"Call it whatever you want, but the proper term for it is still upholstery cleaner."

"How can I call something one thing when it's not that thing at all?"

"Child, you-" He stopped, for she cringed. He had raised his voice slightly without meaning to and the girl feared that he was angry with her. He sighed. "You need to stay focused."

She nodded, and before he could explain what the next item was, she indicated a bottle and asked, "What's that?"

He did not know what to say at this. She was pointing at a bottle of wood polish, one of the first things that he had shown her.

"What are all of these?" She gestured to everything in the closet and he had to fight the urge to pull his hair out. He was not a very patient man, one of the few flaws that he admitted to have, and this child had just completely forgotten everything that he'd spent the last hour trying to teach her.

"You mean you have no idea what they are?" She shook her head in the negative. "But I just told you what they all are."

She looked utterly confused at this statement. "You did?" A crestfallen expression slid onto her face. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. I was too busy thinking about upholstery. I guess I forgot." Well, at least now he knew that she was easily distracted.

He'd have to remember that in the future.

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Princess DG was being put to bed and Ambrose hurried to her room so that he might bid her goodnight. He stopped suddenly when he saw a figure standing just outside the princess's bedroom, peering through the slightly open doorway. It was Lynette. He could hear the queen speaking to DG.

He strode over to the door, standing just behind the young maid. He watched as the queen tucked DG into bed and made sure that her daughter was wrapped snugly in the blankets. He knew that Lynette was watching them as well. He heard her sniffle, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped slightly at his touch but did not shout or turn to see who had come upon her. She knew that it was Ambrose, for she knew his touch, she knew his scent. She silently watched the picture of mother and daughter together, the way that they were supposed to be, and it depressed her somewhat. It confused her as to why her life had not been like that. But then again, if her mother had loved her, then she would not have abandoned her at the palace. And then Lynette would never have met Ambrose, which she knew was the greatest thing that would ever happen to her.

Tearing her eyes away from the two females, she turned and walked away without a word. It took a moment for Ambrose's mind to register the fact the his hand was now resting upon empty air, and when he turned to look at her, he only saw the end of her skirt rounding a corner. Momentarily forgetting the princess, he hurried to catch up with Lynette.

She walked slowly down the hallway, and he couldn't help but just watch her receding figure for a few moments. "Wait!" he hissed, causing her to look at him. She curtsied as he strode over to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said a bit too quickly. He looked at her knowingly and she sighed. "It's just…I wish _I'd_ had a mother like that…one that cared for me, one that protected me, one that loved me. But I guess it's too late for that now."

He considered her words. She just wanted a maternal figure, and that wasn't asking for much. Maybe he could give her something along those lines.

"You know I'm always here for you." He put an arm around her shoulders, and she did something completely unexpected. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping them beneath his jacket, and pressed her body up against his. Normally, he would've pulled away, but a voice within him told him to stay. Over the past two years, he'd grown fond of the girl. Perhaps they both needed this.

He returned her embrace, resting his chin atop her head. Her thin frame was trembling. He wasn't surprised, for it _was_ quite cold in the Northern Palace. "I'll protect you," he whispered. "I'll take care of you."

She looked up at him. "Will you love me?" It was an innocent question, but it greatly startled Ambrose. Love her? He loved DG. It was a friendly/paternal love, but a love all the same, one of the very rare ones he'd experienced. He did not love often, and was not sure if he could love the girl currently hugging him. He could extend a hand of friendship towards her, but that was it.

When he said nothing for several minutes, Lynette understood his unspoken answer. She nodded her head sadly before resting her head against his chest. "It's all right. I didn't think so." She gently squeezed him before stepping back. "Goodnight, Ambrose." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and started off for her room.

"Goodnight, Ch…Lynette." Since he met her, he'd always called her "Child". He thought that perhaps now was the time for him to start calling her by her actual name. He liked her name, it sounded like one that belonged to a very fragile girl.

Hearing the two words that escaped his lips, Lynette smiled all the way back to her room.

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Lynette skipped down a hallway, humming, a bucket swinging to and fro in one hand, a scrubbing brush in the other. As she entered the drawing room, she tripped on the carpet and crashed to the floor, sending the bucket rolling away from her.

Ambrose entered the room to see what had caused the racket, only to find Lynette sprawled on the carpet and a bucket rolling towards him. He picked it up and strode over to her.

"I take it that this is yours?" He didn't have to ask if she was all right. She always was. She was constantly stumbling, slipping, and falling, but she always got right back up and just laughed away her mishaps.

She looked up at him and hurried to her feet, acquiring a serious air as she smoothed out her dress. "Yes." She performed a quick curtsy before gently taking the bucket from him. "Do you require anything, Sir?"

"No, I'm fine." He looked her up and down. She had really matured in the last three years, well…physically that is. She was a child at heart, quite puerile. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm-" She suddenly looked very confused. "I don't really remember. I know I'm supposed to be cleaning something, as usual," she laughed, "but I'm not sure what." Tapping a finger against her chin, she pondered thoughtfully. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I was on my way to tidy up the kitchen. I do believe that breakfast just ended."

She smiled, her face practically glowing. Her hazel eyes all but sparkled as she gazed up at Ambrose. And she began to giggle softly; it was a nervous sort of laugh. He looked at her inquiringly and her laughter immediately stopped. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what that was." She backed up several paces. "I guess I'll see you later." She stumbled again as she continued to back out of the room. The tips of her ears turned pink and she gave him one last smile before leaving. Once she was out of sight, he could hear her rapid footfalls retreating down the hallway.

He couldn't help but smile at her antics. She was still that charming girl that he'd met three years ago, still laughing and never failing to make him smile. But now, things were slightly different. She was no longer the troubled child that might sometimes wander down to his quarters in the middle of the night and wake him up because she had a nightmare. That might seem like something only small children did, but she had the maturity _of_ a small child at the time. Now…now she was a friend, one of his only in fact. After the queen and DG, she took up the most of his time. Azkadellia, he didn't even associate with her anymore. She had distanced herself from everyone, would shut herself up in her room for hours at a time, and she never smiled anymore. The eldest princess had changed, and not for the better.

Perhaps he shouldn't have favored Lynette so much, but for some reason he did…and it just felt right.


	3. Contemplating Realizations

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Tinman...**

Ambrose walked down a dark, empty hallway, the one from which all of the servants' rooms could be accessed. He stopped abruptly in front of a door and produced two sharp raps on it. "Lynette? Lynette, are you there?"

"Yes, just a second," came her startled reply. There came the sound of papers shuffling and just as he turned the doorknob, he heard a drawer being slammed shut. He opened the door to find a young woman standing in front of her desk, breathing deeply, her hands behind her back. Her bun of golden brown hair was messier than usual. She bowed her head and curtsied. "Sir, do you require something?"

"Yes, I do." She looked at him inquiringly. "Well, not me personally. But the queen sent me to fetch you."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression inquiring. "Fetch me?"

"The…the princess's bedroom," his voice was shaking, "is acquiring some dust." He looked down at the ground, swallowing hard. "The queen asks that you just brush over everything, you know, make it…" he stopped. He closed his eyes hard; it seemed as though he was in pain. "…make it look like she's still here." With the youngest princess having passed away, and Azkadellia going missing just after, and the king leaving as well, the queen had wished to move back to Finaqua. And even though she knew both her children to be gone, she did not feel right allowing their bedrooms to seem so uninhabited.

"Still here?" Lynette seemed to ponder over his words for a while, and her features gained a confused air to them. "Oh!" she said, as though her mind had only just registered what he was speaking of. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. Sometimes I forget that princess DG is no longer with us." Her eyes seemed to flood with understanding as she gazed at him tenderly. "I-I'll get right on it."

He smiled at the woman, a false, masking smile. Forgetful she may have been, but she had such a kind, youthful heart. Her words stung, but he knew that she didn't mean to be so forthright in the way she spoke. "Thank you." He began to walk towards the doorway.

"Wait for me." Lynette hurried forward and ended up tripping over herself. Ambrose turned around just in time to catch her in his arms and when he looked down at her, he saw that her cheeks had turned scarlet. Their eyes locked, tearful brown and surprised hazel, and something clicked. Quickly standing up and muttering a nervous apology, Lynette opened the door. The two stepped out into the empty hallway. She placed a white hand on his shoulder and said, "Things will get better." Though looking somewhat hesitant to leave, with those words and an apologetic expression she started off down the hallway, leaving Ambrose quite alone.

He looked into her room; she hadn't even bothered to shut the door. How could she be so careless? Someone could just barge right in and—

He looked down both ends of the hallway to make sure that he was most definitely by himself. Though he knew it was wrong, he could not help himself as he walked into Lynette's room, closing the door behind him.

Ambrose was a man who enjoyed discovering things and solving questions. And at that moment, there were several questions circulating in his cranium: why had Lynette seemed so nervous when he entered her room, why had her cheeks turned scarlet when he caught her, and where were the papers that he'd previously heard being shuffled? With these inquiries in his head, sad thoughts of DG fled from him. He looked at the desk. Yes, the desk; that was where she had been standing, with her hands behind her back as though hiding a secret. He'd heard a drawer slam shut. Yes, there was a small drawer in the left hand corner of the desk. He opened it to discover a complete mess of papers inside.

Well, that solved the mystery of the missing papers, but did not explain the other two questions. Why would she be so quick to hide the pieces of parchment? Some were crumpled, some torn in halves or more, but all containing the same childish handwriting, as though the writer was only just learning how to create words from ink. On many pieces, the writing had been scribbled on and crossed out to the point where the words were illegible. Phrases were written here and there such as:

_If I were smarter_

_Would that be good enough?_

_I am only a shadow_

_Sticking to the wall_

_Beneath your light._

_He shall never know_

_How the calls of my heart_

_Wish to be answered._

_Before I met you_

_I did not know what a smile was._

But, oh so much was crossed out, and his mind sought to put the different fragments together in some coherent way. This only ended in failure, and he supposed that it was because of who he was dealing with. Lynette was not logical, but was emotional, which was something that he never allowed himself to be. He realized that any attempt at decoding her thoughts would be futile for now.

About to close the drawer and retreat from the small room, one bit of writing, actually one large bit, caught his eye. Though the writing had several slashes running through it, and the paper was spotted in several areas with what he assumed to be water, he could read every childish word with relative ease.

_We are so unlike, you and I._

_In the same place we live,_

_But have two totally different lives,_

_Yet you are the only one_

_Who I dare to call my friend._

_When no one would speak to me, you did._

_You look at me like I'm a child:_

_Younger, unlearned, and clumsy,_

_An idiot compared to you:_

_Serious, a genius, graceful._

_You help me when I don't know_

_How to do something_

_And I lift your mood now and then._

_Opposites really is what we are,_

_But still find joy in each other's company,_

_Like our differences melt into one another_

_To make us whole._

_And as the days go by_

_I find myself falling,_

_But I think unrealistically,_

_For though we live in the same place,_

_We follow two very different lives,_

_Our paths crossing only when required,_

_For I am so many levels beneath you._

_But still I dare to hope_

_That one day you might look at me_

_And see a woman who is worthy._

The words hit him like a brilliant idea, though he felt quite foolish for not realizing their origin long ago. The poem had to have been about him, for she never talked to anyone else; she even admitted that to him several times before. It now occurred to him as to why she had seemed nervous when he entered the room. Her writings were secretive and she obviously had not been too keen on the idea of him reading them. Did Lynette perhaps feel something for him, other than friendship? Were her feelings stronger than he had perceived, than he had ever dared believe? That would explain why she blushed such a deep shade when he caught her in his arms.

He shoved the paper back into the drawer and left the room in a hurry, lest he still be there when Lynette returned. That would be most awkward, and he did not feel that he was in the mood to explain himself. No, now all explanations were fleeing from him like rabbits, hopping each and every way until they jumped down a hole and were unreachable. For the first time in which he could distinctly remember, Ambrose was confused.

He walked through hallways, up staircases, through more corridors, and back down those same stairwells, with no intended end to this journey. The longer he walked, the more he thought, and the more everything made sense. Oh, it took a while; he circulated throughout the palace at least once before the pieces began to fall in place.

He felt like such an imbecile for being so oblivious. How did he never notice before? The way she smiled at him, grew even clumsier in his presence, always tried to make him laugh, they were all signs. And any time she dared to touch him, her hands always lingered a bit longer than necessary. Goodness, that should have been the most obvious sign.

But why did he care? Perhaps she _did_ have feelings for him, so what? It didn't matter; she'd get over those feelings soon enough. There was no need to ponder over this situation any longer. What situation? There was no situation, everything was fine.

He stumbled as he descended a staircase towards his quarters. No, that was a lie. Everything was _not_ fine. As he thought about Lynette, he found that his own pulse was racing. He pictured her young face, with those brilliant hazel eyes that smiled and laughed more than her mouth did. She had such an air about her; it was breathtaking, actually. Though she may not have always said the brightest things, her words never failed to be composed of only the truth, and they came from her soul. _Her very beautiful soul_

Wait, what was he thinking? Her beautiful soul? Curse it, the truth now stared him in the face. He adored her, every single last part of her. There was no attribute of hers that he did not find to be appealing. Oh, everything made perfect sense now. The childish words that she had written haunted his mind:

_Opposites really is what we are_

_But still find joy in each other's company,_

_Like our differences melt into one another_

_To make us whole._

No truer words had been written that were known to him. Ever since Lynette had arrived at the palace, her absence made him feel uneasy. Unless she was with him, his life seemed so dull, and he himself felt empty. It was as though some strange void had lodged itself within him; but when she was near, that void was nonexistent. She balanced out his knowledge, his formalities, and his seriousness. She made him whole; it was what he had formerly considered as her faults, being clumsy, unintelligent, and somewhat impetuous, that had him now utterly enamored with her. Perhaps these qualities were only present due to her youth. She practically emanated a youthful energy for all to feel.

The smile he'd been wearing for quite some time now quickly melted from his face. No, that was a problem! This couldn't happen! She was eighteen annuals of age, a child compared to him. Damn it, he was twenty-five! A child had somehow managed to capture his heart, and he was unable to figure out how this had occurred. Was he a sick man to be thinking these thought about her? No, no he wasn't. She was eighteen, younger than him, but still a woman now. Whether he could truly accept it or not, she was a woman, and a quite attractive woman at that. _Now I'm contradicting myself._ Was she a child or a woman? Of course, the latter was what he truly realized her to be. The way her hips swayed when she walked, how her bosom was no longer flat. _Whoa, time to stop right there._ She was no longer the malnourished child that he had first trailed through the palace hallways. No, now she was a beautiful enchantress. Perhaps they could — no, what was he thinking? Was he actually contemplating the possibility of sharing a relationship with her? He couldn't do that. It would be improper, for reasons that he was unsure of at the moment.

Besides, he was too busy with his work to have a relationship. She would only get in the way. He already spent too much time with her as it was; he didn't to start falling behind in his work because of her. What if the queen found out? Would she object? Oh, she most definitely would. She might remove him from his position; he couldn't let that happen. He had worked too hard and too long to just let everything slip through his fingers. He would not give up his job, all that he had worked towards, just for the sake of a woman.

As he sat on his bed, almost clawing his hair out with distress, he kept thinking one thing: _I'm out of my mind._ It could never work, there was just no way. Despite the fact that they had feelings for each other, and he was assuming that she _did_ have feelings for him, they didn't need to act upon those feelings. Ambrose was not a man who allowed his emotions to take control. He would remain calm, act as if he knew nothing of this.

He stood up, taking in a deep breath. He could do this; there was a very simple solution to this problem. All he had to do was make it a point to let her know that he only wanted to be her friend, even if that wasn't what he truly wanted. And if it came to it, he could become less than her friend, maybe just an associate. Surely she wouldn't try anything unless he showed interest in her. She was a demure woman. Well, she'd been gradually straying from that attitude for some time now. Distance was the key; avoidance would also work. He sighed.

Things could just never be easy with her.


	4. A Kiss of Dark Separation

**Disclaimer: Once again, I'm forced to admit that I don't own Tinman.**

Why did this plan have to be the one that went wrong? He told himself, distance and avoidance were the keys to solving this problem. Yet, somehow he found himself walking along the edge of the lake, side by side the very woman he wished to avoid. She'd asked him if he wanted to take a walk with her and even though his head screamed no, his mouth said yes. It was awkward really, for it had only just rained outside and there was sure to be mud everywhere, and Ambrose preferred to stay hygienic. But he knew that a refusal would no doubt make her feel dejected, and for some reason he couldn't stand to see her like that.

Now she was talking about something; he wasn't really paying attention. Nodding his head from time to time, he smiled at her, but his thoughts were nowhere near this one-sided conversation. Their arms brushed against each other every now and then and his breath caught in his throat each time.

Suddenly, she slipped in the mud and almost went tumbling into the lake. But he caught her, grabbing her hand just in time. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her back up.

"You need to be more careful," he practically scolded.

"Oh, but Ambrose," she said offhandedly, "you know that I can hardly take two steps without tripping all over myself." She smiled, a laugh escaping her lips. "But I'm really not looking forward to taking a swim today, so could you perhaps just keep a hold on me so that I don't fall again?"

He hesitated at first, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Of course, Lynette." He put an arm around her shoulders and they began to walk once more. Now he was beginning to grow quite warm in this position. He looked down to see that she had a very content expression on her face. She was smiling, like always, and her eyes were halfway closed. Then her eyes abruptly opened widely and she took in a deep breath. She licked her lips, and her demeanor completely changed. She gained a very nervous air, and he looked ahead to see what might have caused this change in her.

He was suddenly jerked back, for Lynette had stopped walking. Still trying to see what apparently was frightening her, he did not see how close she was until he felt her warm breath on his neck. Oh yes, he was definitely warm right now. He felt her lips press tenderly against his cheek, and a sensation flooded throughout his entire body.

Turning to face her, his expression was surprised but gentle. She had kissed him; she had crossed the line of friendship. His mind struggled to think of what his response should be. He could kiss her back. Oh, that sounded so appealing right then. He wanted to feel his lips against hers, have that sensation course through his body once more. He traced her jaw line affectionately until his hand rested beneath her chin, and he held her there, staring into her eyes. They leaned closer to each other until they were so near as to feel the other's breath, their lips only an inch or two apart. He could barely restrain himself as he gazed into those hazel orbs. Now was the time to make a decision. His head shouted no and his heart screamed yes. The conflict was tearing him up, but in the end he knew what he had to do.

He tightened his grip on her chin so that she was forced to face him. His hold was somewhat painful, and Lynette gasped in shock. His look was grim, more serious than she'd ever seen before. His eyes bore into her, two icy flames. "Never," he hissed, "do that again." He roughly released her, the abrupt movement knocking her off balance, and she fell to her knees. Her bottom lip quivered from fright and her eyes glistened with tears. Ambrose stormed away towards the palace, not once looking back at the petrified girl. He wanted so badly to run back to her and just hold her, to dry the tears that were surely falling due to his actions. But he couldn't, he would not let his emotions run him.

Strangely, he'd expected his first kiss to be somewhat more romantic.

---------------------------

Days went by, and Ambrose did not see a hair of Lynette. He didn't find her prancing through the hallways or skipping stones on the lake, as was a pastime of hers. He no longer heard her glorious laugh or viewed that smiling face. And this angered him. Was she avoiding him? If anything, he should've been the one avoiding _her_. Well, two could play at that game.

It was almost a week after she kissed him that he finally saw her. She was in the dining room polishing the table. She looked up and he was met with an ashen face, a despondent expression. "Oh hello, Sir." she put down the rag that she was holding and performed her usual curtsy, bowing her head in respect. When she raised her head, he was gone.

They crossed paths again in the entrance hall. She was washing a window when he entered, and gave a small wave. Ignoring the gesture, he walked right by without casting even the smallest of glances her way.

Again, he saw her in a corridor. She was carrying a bucket of soapy water and tripped, crashing to the floor and spilling water all over the tile. A smack echoed throughout the hallway as her forehead hit the ground, but he didn't even look down at her, continuing on his way.

Every time he ignored her, he felt more and more horrible. All he wanted to do was end the torture, to reignite the spark in her eyes that was slowly dying. But they couldn't be friends, not after she had kissed him, not after how he was currently acting. He doubted that she understood why he was acting in such a manner. She most likely thought that he hated her, but she couldn't be further from the truth. Any anger he'd felt towards her had long ago evaporated and now he was only too stubborn, too embarrassed, too scared to speak to her. He knew that any attempt to do so would result in the following: he would try to speak but no words would come, he would be dominated by his emotions, and he would take her face into his hands and kiss her. That just couldn't happen.

And now they were both paying for his tenacity.

---------------------------

Several Long Coats escorted, well pushed, Ambrose down the corridors. The queen's reign had officially ended. Azkadellia was now in control. The child he used to watch frolic around with her sister had grown to be a malicious woman, overthrowing her own mother and turning the O.Z. into a place of fear and destruction. No, no it could not be! This was a nightmare, and he would soon wake and everything would be fine. But no, deep down he knew that this was indeed reality.

Moving a mop left and right across the floor, Lynette stared off into nothingness. The sound of many footfalls caught her attention, and she perked her head up in the direction of where the noise originated. A group of Long Coats appeared in a perpendicular corridor. Wait, Long Coats? In the palace? And…was that Ambrose with them? Something was horribly wrong; she could feel it.

She'd learned by then that speaking to him was futile, but she couldn't help herself as she called, "Ambrose!"

He turned to look at her and she almost cried out again. His face seemed so haunted, so aged, and it terrified her. But he said nothing and simply allowed the Long Coats to lead him on, quickly disappearing from view.

Dropping the mop, Lynette ran after them. Something was most definitely wrong. Ambrose was in trouble, and even though he hated her, she was willing to risk anything and everything to save him.

Ambrose heard quick footfalls approaching from behind. No! She was going to get hurt, or worse…killed. It deeply sickened him as he pictured her cold, lifeless, and most likely bloody, body. He tried to turn his head and was just barely able to see her coming up fast behind the group. And she didn't appear to be slowing down at all. She had her gaze fixed upon the Long Coat nearest to her and it looked as though she planned to tackle him.

She came so close to reaching the man when something echoed throughout the corridor and pain flooded her entire right arm. She paused for a moment, but then continued after them. She could almost touch him again when two more noises reverberated off the walls. This time the throbbing was concentrated in her right leg, and she fell. She couldn't move her leg; she couldn't stand. All she could do was watch them take away the man that she loved.

"Ambrose," Lynette cried, her tone full of desperation and hopelessness. The group disappeared down an adjoining corridor, and soon only a deafening silence accompanied her. She continued to stare down the hallway, no longer aware of anything except for the fact that she had failed. They had beaten her, and whatever happened to Ambrose was her fault…because she couldn't stop them.

She was awakened from these thoughts when pain shot up and down her limbs. She looked down to see that a bullet was lodged in her shoulder; there was also one in her upper thigh and one in her kneecap. She was bleeding. Good, she deserved it. She should be punished for failing. The pain kept escalating, and her vision was beginning to cloud. No, she wasn't going to just lay there and give up. She had to get out…she had to get…

She was incapable of finishing that thought as her mind was consumed by a throbbing darkness.

After they shot his beloved, Ambrose tried to break free from the Long Coats. He had to get to her, he had to help her. He heard two more gunshots and began swinging his fists in all directions, getting in a few blows before a Long Coat hit him over the head with the butt of a gun. He could've sworn that she called his name, but he plunged into a pool of unconsciousness before he was able to respond.

He woke to find that he was lying on a table, bound by leather straps around his ankles, wrists, torso, and head. Lynette, where was she? What happened to her? They shot her, did they kill her? No, she couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be.

A man stood over him, saying that they, whoever "they" were, would soon begin to remove his brain. No, they couldn't do that. The Sunseeder, a machine he'd invented to slow the suns (yes suns, there were two) and extend the growing season, was what they wanted. What they wanted it _for_, he couldn't say. But he had destroyed the blueprints so that Azkadellia wouldn't be able to build it. What was it she had said? _If he wouldn't tell her what he knew, then s__he'd have to reach in and take the information herself._ No, they couldn't do this. He had to get out of there.

He tried to plead with the alchemist, saying several times that the operation wouldn't work. But the man just wouldn't listen to him and only told him to count back from one hundred. Ambrose didn't understand what he meant, for it was such an absurd command. Well, that was until he began to feel hazy and his vision blurred. No, he had to find Lynette. Though he struggled against the bonds, he knew that he would never see his beautiful enchantress again.

He only made it to ninety-six before his eyes closed and he was lost to darkness once more.

---------------------------

**Well, that's the last chapter for a while. I'm off to Orlando for a few days, but I'll have something to give you when I come back. **


	5. A Confined Acquaintance

**Disclaimer: Tinman still does not belong to me...I just manipulate its characters to do my bidding.**

He looked down at the woman being shoved into the cage by the same fighters who had imprisoned him, listening as she released a string of colorful phrases. Of course, she didn't see him, for he was tied to the roof of the enclosure, which strangely resembled a bird cage. Well, perhaps it wasn't _that_ strange, considering that they were at a rather large tree fort, and birds inhabited trees. It was like they were birds, now…what was he thinking about? Hey, there was a girl in the cage now. She hung onto the bars to steady herself as the cage was raised by a pulley system to the point where it was level with a bridge strung between two trees.

Her captors, two very short men with war paint on their faces and dressed in clothing covered with feathers, came to stand in the center of the bridge and began to question the woman. They accused her of being a spy for Azkadellia, the sorceress still in charge of the O.Z., but she continually told them that she had no idea what they were speaking about. The man above her could sympathize. There were many times when he also had no idea of what others were speaking of. He believed her; she didn't look a spy. But then, that was usually the point.

"You guys are out of your tiny minds!" she yelled as they walked away. Hmm…it seemed as though the interrogation had not gone so well. She sat there for a moment on the floor of the cage, careful to stay away from the center, for that was where the hole was that she had been pushed though earlier. She then looked around the cage and then…

No, she was looking up at him. He averted his eyes, embarrassed to be found in such an awkward position. Her gaze made him feel rather unpleasant. She stood up and said, "What are you doing-"

"Up here?" he finished for her. "Little…_Ankle biters_...thought it'd be funny to keep me hanging around. Loosen that rope and I might have the last laugh," he said with a smile, raising his eyebrows slightly.

She looked to where the rope was fastened to the cage, then back up at him. It didn't appear like she was going to do anything.

"Come on, Doll. If Mom and Pop really are on the route to Central City then you're falling farther and father behind."

His words piqued her interest. "You know the way?"

"Sure. Though it's kind of hard to give directions like this," he said, glancing at the rope around him. She still didn't seem convinced. He sighed. "Unless you have a better offer." She wouldn't have a better offer. If she didn't help him, he refused to give her the information she desired. Well, that did it. She untied the rope and he dropped to the floor of the cage.

As soon as she was able to get a good look at the man, she noticed a few things. He was lanky, with an exceptionally threadbare coat hanging off his frame. His face was very pale, but not in a bad way. His black hair stuck out in short wild dreads, and on his head was a zipper. Wait…a zipper? For a moment she thought that her eyes were deceiving her. But no, a zipper, an unzipped zipper to be exact, ran down the center of his scalp. "What the hell?" she exclaimed.

Feeling rather insulted, he retorted, "Hey, you aren't so hot on first glance either, Honey." But that wasn't true; she was quite pretty, actually. She had a nice figure clothed in what appeared to be blue slacks, a light blue shirt, and a leather jacket. Her ebony hair, a bit messy from her tussle with the resistance fighters, tumbled down her back in gentle waves. Those large, blue eyes continue to stare at him and he asked, "What? Is there a problem?"

"Oh, um, your uh…"

He looked around, trying to figure out what she was talking about. "What?"

She gave a nervous laugh and made a motion with her hand over her head. "Your um," she whispered, "your zipper's undone."

His eyes widened, feeling embarrassed once more. How did that happen? He hurried to reach up. "Oh, didn't mean to offend." He closed the gap in his head and said, "Gotta be careful not to lose your marbles," letting out a short laugh. The woman only looked at him oddly. "But since the Sorceress made her Medicoats take mine, well you flick the abacus." He loosened the rope from around his torso, letting it fall to the floor.

"Why would they remove your brain?"

"Cause of what I know…or used to know…whatever it was." He brown eyes gained a dreamy look, as if he was no longer completely there. Perhaps he was trying to remember whatever the thing was that he used to know. She watched him, waiting for him to continue. He then suddenly seemed to snap out of the trance and looked at her, smiling. He sure smiled a lot. "Name's Glitch, on account of sometimes my synapses don't fire right." He paused, a blank look on his face. "Sometimes my synapses don't fire right," he repeated.

She laughed nervously. "Heh, you just said that."

"Did I?" He looked somewhat startled at this bit of news. Laughing off the lapse with a smile, he said, "Well there you go, glitching again."

Holding onto the bars, she said, "And here I thought this dream couldn't get any weirder," looking at him strangely again. Oh, why did people always have to look at him like that? And what was that, a dream? Ha, she was sure in for a rude awakening. Well, she wouldn't really be woken up since she wasn't dreaming, but she _would_ be woken up to the fact that this _wasn't_ a dream, if that even made sense. He supposed it might, in a mindboggling sort of way.

"This isn't a dream. This is the O.Z., the Outer Zone." With a touch of sadness to his voice, he added, "It used to be a piece of Heaven too, until Akda-D got her claws into it."

It was quite obvious to the woman that no one was fond of this Azkadellia person…whoever she was. The gloomy look in Glitch's eyes made her choose to change the subject.

"By the way, I'm DG." He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"My goodness, don't you know that you shouldn't scare people like that? And how did you ever manage to get up here? It's very high up in case you didn't notice." Then he smiled and said, "Oh, I know you. What did you say your name was again?"

"It's DG."

"DG? That sounds familiar for some reason." He seemed to ponder for a few moments and then shrugged his shoulders. "Nope, nothing."

Before DG could respond to this, they heard the sound of horses approaching. Looking down, they saw several men on horseback stop in front of the tree village. Why were Long Coats there? Glitch could only assume that Azkadellia had sent them. He watched as the men dismounted their horses and spread out. Perhaps they were searching for something...or someone.

His musings were disturbed when the cage gave a sudden lurch. Holding onto the bars for support, he looked to see that DG had dropped through the hole and was now hanging onto the edge.

"What are you doing?" he asked as the cage moved again.

"I have an idea."

"Hello? DG, it-it's too high to jump," he said as the cage began to swing back and forth, closer and closer towards the bridge. "I-I don't think this a very good idea. Come back! Come back right now." If she fell, oh he couldn't bear to imagine that. She was such a nice person; it'd be a shame to see her body splatter upon the ground. He heard her shout. No, she must have slipped. He closed his eyes, afraid to look down at the ground.

He slowly opened one eye to see that she was hanging onto a rope that acted as a railing on the bridge. She pulled herself up and turned to him, watching as he swung away from her.

"Come on!" she said, gesturing towards herself. "We don't have much time!"

Glitch followed her example, dropping through the hole in the cage and swinging back and forth. All too soon the bridge was within jumping distance and he released the edge of the cage, flying through the air and grabbing onto the rope. DG tugged at his coat, helping him up and praying that he wouldn't fall. When both were standing safely on the bridge they took off. Running from bridge to bridge, platform to platform, they searched for an escape.

"Look, a rope!" DG exclaimed, pointing to one that connected from a platform to the ground. She began a descent with Glitch right behind, well rather above, her. Once they reached the ground they raced off into the forest, away from the tree fort and away from the Long Coats that had captured the attention of the resistance fighters.

After what seemed like an eternity of running, Glitch wondered what was amiss. He quickly looked behind him, only to see that DG was following closely. There was no one else around, so they couldn't be running from anyone. Perhaps _she_ was chasing him. But weren't they friends, or at least not enemies? They could be having a race, but that didn't make any sense. He hissed, "Why are we running?"

DG halted and looked around, straining to hear even the slightest noise. Glitch stopped as well and looked at her, still waiting for an answer. "I think we're safe," she said, putting her hands on her knees and breathing deeply. When she looked up, he was still looking at her inquiringly. "We were trying to get away from the lawn gnomes and mad men on horses."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Mad men on horses? Where, where are they?" He turned around in a circle several times, looking quite like a dog chasing its tail. She laughed quietly at the image until Glitch fell over due to dizziness.

She rushed forward and held out a hand. "Are you okay?" He nodded and grabbed her hand, standing up and brushing the dirt from his pants. "Will you show me how to get to Central City now?"

"Oh, yes, I did say that I would give you directions." _Am I really that annoying?_ They had met not long ago and she was already trying to get rid of him. Well, he _did_ say that he would help her. Now, if he could just remember which way the road was. He looked in all directions, but nothing seemed familiar. There were so many directions to choose from, and only one led to the road, not to mention that every direction looked the same and he had no idea where any of them went. This was not good. It was best not to disappoint DG, so he faced a random direction and said, "This way."

She could tell that Glitch was unsure about his words and figured that he probably didn't know where they were. Well, neither did she, so it couldn't hurt to just go in the direction that he indicated. She started forward and after a while looked back to see that he was just standing there, watching her.

"You coming?"

He looked from side to side, and then pointed at himself. "Me?" DG nodded and he said, "Coming? Sure, of course, why not?" She only softly laughed at his answer, turned, and began to walk once more. He quickly fell into stride beside her and linked arms with her, smiling as she gave him an odd look. For some reason he didn't find it the least unnatural to do this with her.

After quite a while of walking in silence, he whispered, "Where are we going?"

**---------------------------**

**I know that it has been more than few days since my last post, and I apologize, but I had a lot of schoolwork and several other stories that required my attention first. The next chappie will hopefully not take nearly as long to write.**


	6. Breathing Creates Tension

**Disclaimer: I think you get it by now, so this goes for all future chappies. Don't own it, don't own it, don't own it.**

"Three!" he shouted, and they jumped off the cliff, plummeting down towards the water for what seemed like an eternity. He had closed his eyes soon after jumping, and the feeling of the water shocked him; thousands of needles burrowed into his skin. The sudden discomfort caused him to gasp, and practically all of his air deserted him. As he swam towards the surface, a shadow fell past him. Looking back, he recognized the shadow to be DG. Without a second's hesitation, he dove after her, just grasping the edge of her jacket. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he struggled toward the surface. With each stroke he completed, he could feel his chest burn more and more due to a lack of oxygen.

His eyelids drooped lower and lower as his movements became sluggish; when it felt as though he would lose his hold on DG, something grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him upward. Air, glorious air was all around him, and he gulped it down like a dehydrated man does with water. Something dragged him along the surface of the water until he felt the solid ground beneath him. Feeling DG being tugged away, he grasped her tighter, refusing to release his companion. "Hey, convict!" Opening his eyes, he saw the face of Cain glaring above him. "Would you let go of her already?"

Seeing that DG was safely lying on the ground as well, he removed his arms from around her. "I'll be right back," said Cain, taking a few steps towards the forest. He stopped suddenly, turning to look back at Glitch. "Don't go anywhere." The last thing he needed was for the head case to go off and get lost. Making his way into the dense wood, he checked to see if that creature was nearby. It had jumped before the rest of them, and by the time they'd come up out of the water, it was nowhere to be seen.

"That was some jump, eh, DG?" Hearing no response from his friend, he looked down at her to see that she had not yet stirred. Hmm...perhaps she was sleeping, for he was tuckered out as well. No, something was wrong, but what was it? There! Why wasn't her chest rising and falling? Was she...dead? No, that couldn't be! Placing his ear against her chest, he was relieved to hear a faint, slow beat. But something was still wrong. She wasn't breathing. Glancing about the area, he realized that Cain was not there. It became obvious to Glitch that it was up to him to do something for his friend.

Panic was upon him, crushing him within its grasp and making him even more scatterbrained. He absentmindedly tugged at a lock of hair, glancing at DG every few seconds. She still wasn't moving! Suddenly something went off in his head, one of those complete thoughts that he rarely experienced; but when he did he felt so proud of himself.

What was that thing he'd learned a long time ago? It was used to help people breathe when they couldn't do that on their own. DDR? No, that was something that DG had told him about. Wait, it was CPR! But what did the letters stand for? Oh yes, ciss (kiss), press, revive. Kneeling on the ground beside her, he gazed uncertainly at her still features. What if he did something wrong? He could hurt her on accident. Oh...why did this have to happen? Slowly each step came to mind, and before he knew it, his lips were pressed to DG's. They felt so soft and—what was he thinking? Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts...right? No, of course not; never was the time for those thoughts. Never? Well sometimes, but not with DG. That was completely inappropriate. She was his friend, not his...what?

Twice he alternated between breathing and pressing down firmly on her chest, and each time she didn't respond his thoughts became even more frantic. _Open your eyes, DG. Please don't die. The first girl I kiss, and she's dead. Is she the first one? No! I'm not kissing her! Bad, Glitch! Bad! You do not think such things! Oh, what do I do next? What am I doing __**now**__? Oh yes, breathing. Please open your eyes, DG._

Her eyelids fluttered open, and it was a moment before she understood what was going on. When the realization that Glitch had his lips pressed against hers hit her with full force, her eyes widened in shock and she bolted upright, coughing up water and gasping for air. Her abrupt movement would've thrown Glitch to the ground if Cain hadn't jerked him away only a second before.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

Sitting on the ground, Glitch began to gesture wildly with his hands between him and DG. "She was—I was only—it's not what—she would have—you should be—oh fudge monkeys." And he lowered his gaze to the ground, sitting there in silence as he drew swirls in the dirt with a stick.

When she was breathing normally again, DG lifted a tentative hand up to her lips, staring wide-eyed at the man who was just kissing her. "She wasn't breathing," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. And DG understood what had really been happening. He hadn't been kissing her; he had been trying to save her life. Yet, her lips were still tingling. Kneeling beside him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked his head up, startled. His eyes were wide with fear. Would she yell at him, maybe even hit him?

"I'm sorry, DG," he whispered before dropping his gaze to the ground again. "It's just that the..." His voice was low, so only she could hear him. "The...the..." and he looked at her, a smile spreading across his face. "The name's Glitch. Have we met—oh DG, it's you!" He saw that she was frowning and said, "What has made you so glum? Smile, it's a beautiful day," he gestured all around, "and the sun is shining and—oh, my goodness, you're soaking wet! And so am I! Did we go for a swim?"

DG sighed and stood up, unsure if her sigh was one of relief or despair. She was thankful that the situation had been taken care of and that Glitch felt better, but she experienced almost a small pang of dejection at the thought that he had just forgotten something like that. Nonetheless, she smiled at him as he draped an arm across her shoulders and led her into a small clearing in the forest. Cain walked ahead of them, gathering up the pile of sticks he had dropped when he saw Glitch doing whatever it was he'd been trying to do to DG. A gasp caught his attention, and he looked to see that Glitch was pointing at something. It was the one that they had freed from the papay, the viewer. It was sitting on a log, facing away from them.

He then began to make a fire, as the kid was starting to shiver in the head case's embrace, sparing a glance at the two every now and then. She looked so confused. Her eyes would gain a fearful appearance and her body would become rigid, as though she was uncomfortable and wished to pull away from Glitch. But just as sudden as this countenance would appear, it would evaporate, replaced by a smiling visage and a body that seemed to melt into her friend's embrace. Growing tired of watching this battle of emotions, Cain directed his attention to the fire-in-progress.

Now stooping over a small flame, he couldn't help but glimpse over at them again. They had separated by then, each one sitting on a different log, but were still conversing. It appeared as though the battle had finally ended; she really needed to learn not to wear her feelings on her sleeve like that. Glitch never took his eyes off of DG, even when her gaze broke away from his. In fact, whenever she glanced away, the look in his eyes changed; it became gentler. He had the expression of a puppy, a small lovesick—Wait! No, that needed to end right now.

DG stood and walked towards the edge of the river, staring out at the sky with her arms crossed. Cain took that chance to walk over to the convict and sit down beside him. The lanky man clumsily removed his coat, almost falling off of the log in the process, and laid it across his lap.

"I know what you're thinking," Cain growled, his voice low enough so that no one else would hear. "And I'm telling you right now to stop it. I don't know why that kid likes hanging around with a convict like you, but for some reason she trusts you. You better get rid of any of those ideas you've got in your head right away, 'cause I'm not afraid to shoot a criminal." As if to strengthen his words, he pulled aside his duster to show his revolver. Glitch's eyes widened and he gave a small intake of breath.

A nervous laugh escaped his lips before he said, "I...I don't know what you mean. I'm not thinking anything."

"Yeah, I'd believe that any other time. But you can't fool me, head case, I know that look." His words shocked himself. It wasn't the content of his words that surprised him, but the fact that he was saying them at all. Why did he care what the man did? Why did he care about the kid? He told himself that he didn't really care at all; he just didn't want any trouble on the way to Central City. "I'm watching you, convict," he growled before standing and leaving to search for more wood.

Glitch stared at the ground, feeling his cheeks and the tips of his ears grow hot with embarrassment. What _had_ he been thinking? It might have been something about DG and how pretty she was, but he just couldn't remember. Even if that's what it had been, he saw no problems with it. So why did he feel so bad? What had he done to make Cain so angry with him? The sound of footsteps roused him from his wonderings and he looked up to see DG returning. He averted his gaze, finding the wet leaves to be quite interesting at that moment.

DG glanced at her friend, wondering why he was blushing. But she cast the thought aside, hoping that it was only a healthy color trying to return his face; he was so very pale. Sitting down, she caught sight of the creature again.

"Hey!" she called to it...him...it. What was it? "You want to come by the fire? Warm up?" The poor thing must have been freezing.

"Should have left me...to die," he moaned despondently. Yes, that was definitely a male's voice. But why did he sound so miserable?

"Oh great," Glitch grumbled, "a basket case." DG ignored the comment and stood, approaching the poor creature. She tentatively reached for his shoulder, and he growled as though to warn her against completing such an action. But she was unafraid, remembering how he had cowered at the sight of Cain's revolver. Just inches away from contact, he whipped around and grabbed her outstretched hand, but held it so gently. Cain had just returned; he and Glitch started towards DG, but she held up a halting hand.

"It's okay. We're all friends here." She experienced a peculiar, but not unpleasant, sensation run up her arm, and she suddenly felt a tad bit hazy in the head. The creature gazed at her, his eyes full of compassion and understanding.

"You are sad," he said glumly. And she was, though her sorrow had been buried in several layers of other emotions ranging from confusion, to joy, to fear, to desire. "Miss your mother...your father." She nodded her head as the sorrow climbed upward to cover everything else within her. How could he possibly know about that, though? She hadn't said a word about her parents since before they found him. And she hadn't even really been thinking about them for once, but deep down the separation was still tearing her apart thread by thread. "They miss you." She believed his words only because she didn't dare think otherwise.

In an attempt to end the flow of tears that would soon fall from her eyes, she said, "My name's DG. What's yours?" Releasing DG's hand, he picked up a stick and spelled out R-A-W in the dirt at his feet.

"Raw," Glitch read aloud. DG looked at him, and their eyes locked. "Well, that's certainly to the point." DG held back a sudden shiver, her pulse quickening. She just about groaned as a wave of nausea washed over her. No, it wasn't quite nausea; it was almost a pleasant nervousness. If she was feeling what she tried to convince herself that she wasn't feeling, then that statement held more truth than any one of her companions knew.

Raw was definitely blunt and to the point.

**Reviews please! :)**


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